


The home he built without her.

by nichogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Post-Canon, post-season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichogane/pseuds/nichogane
Summary: Krolia’s response once they’ve returned to Keith’s home on Earth, and Keith comforting her.This couch, this room, this home her son had to build and fend for himself in- dirty, run down, and empty, save for the clutter. No semblance of a childhood in sight. She wasn’t there, and his father wasn’t there, but unlike her, the latter didn’t have a choice. “I’m so sorry Keith.





	The home he built without her.

**Author's Note:**

> How I imagine this would go. Onward!

It’s been a long time- a time that seems like forever has passed. Beyond the stratosphere, in the dark abyss littered with millions of twinkling stars. Having seen black holes cave in on themselves, and stepped on planets where the atmosphere isn’t made for breathing; seen planets destroyed and traipsing through the debris, they’re finally able to say they’ve made it back-

 

They’ve finally made it home.

 

The black lion touches down, in the barren wasteland they knew once before; in front of the abandoned house where Keith lived on his own for over a year. The home that Keith brought Shiro back to, when he found him after he crash landed on Earth in a pod. This home, although shabby and run down from being deserted for however long has passed, is the one they come back to.

 

The door is tricky to open; the knob doesn’t twist easily from being unused, and Keith twists and turns until he rams his shoulder into the door in his push. The door is heavy- creaking at the hinges- and Keith rubs his shoulder as it stings.

 

His pet wolf runs in first, and Keith follows behind him. It’s eerily quiet and dark from the sheet covering the window- the one Keith hung to mislead pursuers after he attacked the Garrison base. They would have wanted to interrogate Shiro due to his absence, and potentially throw Keith in jail for setting off bombs. He couldn’t have either happen, as he’d been devastated hearing the news of the Shiro’s “death”, and didn’t want to give anyone the chance to prevent their reunion after he unexpectedly found him.

 

The memory seems like forever ago, in retrospect to what defending the universe’s life was: meeting aliens, piloting sentient lions, and fighting off a tyrannical regime in an intergalactic civil war. He’s come in close contact with death on numerous occasions: ships blowing up, ion cannon beams, floating about space hoping something or someone would come along and help. It’s been far too long since he’s been away from this home, and lived in something relatively safe and normal.

 

“This place reminds me of our house,” Krolia says, touching the walls and thinking of her late lover, reminiscing. It’s small, quaint, and made of wood like theirs was; perfect for a small family. “Besides the dust,” she grimaces, “it’s quite filthy in here- is this what you lived in?”

 

Keith flicks the light switch, and coats the room in fluorescent lighting; floating particles flicker in the light about the space. “No,” he says, swatting particles and rubs his nose to avoid sneezing. “It was...cleaner. I mean, I _have_ been gone for a long time.”

 

“You’re right.” Krolia looks around, at the old couch and chipped coffee table. The shelves hold several books against a wall marred with running cracks. Papers and boxes of rolls sit stacked on the creaking floor boards. There’s a radio system, computer, and scanners. The montage of a map and photos and sticky notes pinned to the corkboard cover majority of the far wall; strings connect certain sightings, and they were color coded, to keep Keith’s research neat and concise. “This is amazing,” she says, noting the pictures of the cave with the blue lion markings; the same one that bound her to Earth, even more so after she’d met Keith’s father and fell in love. “You really are my son.”

 

“Coincidental, huh?” Keith chuckles, beating the couch of dust for his mother’s comfort, and chokes. “Who knew I would end up drawn to the energy...” he coughs, “of the thing you tried to protect.”

 

“Very,” Krolia says, marveling her son’s work.

 

Keith’s eyes water, dusting the back of the couch for his mother to sit. “Here,” and he does sneeze: loud, hard, and it burns so much, he groans. “I made it less dusty for you,” then sniffs.

 

A small smile graces Krolia’s features as she walks over, and sits on the couch her son prepared for her. She sinks into it, and can feel she’s a few centimeters off the floor; the cushions are lopsided with the stuffing inside settled unevenly, being that the couch is so very old and beyond worn. It’s a couch that one would’ve thrown out next to a dumpster, and it tugs a heart string as she sits there, thinking of her son young and alone, trying to haul it from wherever it was.

 

Keith sneezes three more times, and mutters curses in annoyance, sniffing hard and rubbing his red tip nose. “I need to get Shiro out of Black,” he says, walking towards the door remembering the former soundlessly sleeping in the cockpit. It’s good he was, because he needs to get out and breathe in fresh air. “It’s not much, but I hope you’re not too uncomfortable in here-”

 

“I’m sorry,” interrupts him, causes him to stop and turn towards Krolia. Her head is hung, with her lip quivering, and Keith’s eyes grow wide as he sees a tear form.

 

In the time he’s known his mother, she’s embodied strength: confident, quick-witted, and fearless above anything. She’d been quick to protect him, putting his life above her own without a shred of doubt or so much a tremor. A tug in his chest pulls to see her remorseful- to see her sullen and _start_ to break down. “Don’t be-”

 

“No,” she interrupts again, and it quivers as it leaves her lips. “I should have _been_ here for you. I saw what happened to your father, and how young you were when it did, and I could have been here for you...should have been here for you.” She sniffles, and even though she squeezes her eyes shut to keep them contained, a tear or two or three escape. Ridden with guilt, regret, and though for good reason, her negligence of the most important thing to her. Pulled away by a duty she might have been able to carry out had she stayed. She _left_ to protect him, but fate left him unprotected, despite her selfless attempt. This couch, this room, this home her son had to build and fend for himself in- dirty, run down, and empty save for the clutter. No semblance of a childhood in sight. She wasn’t there, and his father wasn’t there, but unlike her, the latter didn’t have a choice. “I’m so sorry, Keith.”

 

Her few tears turn into a sob, burdened with thoughts of her son on his own. Her body heavy and shaking with her chest pained and aching, growing tight. Krolia hides her face behind clasped hands, as tears leak down her thumbs and wrists, and she lets out heavy breaths; she tries to keep her composure- her strong demeanor she’s had for this long- but the thoughts hurt too much. “I’m so…” she starts to say, but gasps before the last word can come out. This is the most vulnerable she’s allowed herself to show or feel in twenty one years, and it’s hard.

 

Keith kneels before Krolia, and takes a hold of her wrists; they’re wet, and it seeps through his glove covered hand. “Krolia,” he says, pulling her hands away from her face. When she doesn’t look at him, he hooks his finger under her chin, and lifts her face for her. Though her sclerae are yellow, a faint red forms in them; the underside of her eyes are puffy, and he knows she’s tired. The once confident look in her eyes shakes in striking, purple hues, and Keith stares directly into them, even as she blinks. He’s come to understand why she hadn’t been present and forgave her during their time in the quantum abyss. Rather beforehand, seeing the glimpses of their past the light had to show him. “It’s okay.”

 

“It’s not,” she tries to pull away, but Keith doesn’t leave room for her to. He wants her to see him there and healthy, and ultimately, forgive herself.

 

“I don’t blame you,” Keith says, and she tries to protest, but he settles to embrace her in his arms- startling her- and holds her close. “It’s okay, mom.”

 

Krolia doesn’t remember if Keith’s called her that in the two years they spent together; if he did, it fails in comparison to how she heard it now. He sounds older and mature, strong and confident, aware and sure of himself and what he said. Not a trace of resentment towards her and her leaving...angry about his upbringing, and the way it left him soothes her some.

 

She buries her face in his hair as she hugs him back, and the soft tendrils tickle the underside of her nose. His hair smells like musk and dirt, but she doesn’t care, taking him in; he became a leader as soon as he regrouped with the paladins, fought hard battles, and made his way through. He’s warm against her, and probably because his paladin suit’s gotten stuffy for him in desert heat. There’s a pulse, he’s breathing, and she’s holding him in her arms.

 

“Thank you,” Krolia says, and Keith squeezes tighter around her waist in response.

 

She wasn’t there, and should have been, but the only thing that matters is that she’s with him, and he’s with her now; most importantly, that he’s alive.

**Author's Note:**

> That backstory was so painful, and I love them so much, because of it. Feel free to let me know what you think. Until next time ♥


End file.
